Hannah And The Golden Dew Poem by Jonathan Platt

Hannah And The Golden Dew
A dropp of dew - the morning's tear,
Hanging from the flower's ear
Like a jewel. But cheap and unrare,
Nothing Lady Hannah would wear.

But then came the craftsman of dawn
O'er eastern ridge of misty yon,
Yielding his art of gild,
On every mountain, forest, and field.

And now Lady Hannah exclaimed,
For the dewdropp did expensively change,
And was a treasure for a moment beheld,
'Til the dew, gold-glimmering, fell.